


Hold Onto a Motherfucker

by MafagafoGirl



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Homestuck Stabdads, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Humanstuck, legit this is just a cute thing, no angst i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MafagafoGirl/pseuds/MafagafoGirl
Summary: “Hey, what’s gonna happen when you die?”Gamzee reflects on his future with his new guardian, just before going to sleep.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	Hold Onto a Motherfucker

**Author's Note:**

> In this scenario, the Felt have a halfway house because doing charity would help raise the gang's PR; Doze is the one that runs it, with help from Sawbuck and Cans sometimes. Gamzee escaped from a neglectful home, got involved in a clown cult, then addicted to heroin, before he was put in the foster system, and then allocated to the Felt's halfway house.
> 
> With that being said, enjoy!

“Hey, what’s gonna happen when you die?”

“Huh?”

Doze looked up from his book, resting his eyes on Gamzee, sprawled out on his bed across the room, long arms and legs spilling over the border. He had been staying in the Felt’s Halfway House for Troubled Youth for quite a few months now, and Doze was very satisfied with the progress he made so far. At this time of night, when he first arrived, he would be stealing knives from the kitchen and threatening someone to give him money to go out and get his fix. Right now, however, he stared up at the wooden ceiling, his big curious eyes squinting hard as he thought deep about life and the universe. The teen liked to spend time with his guardian right before going to sleep, and Doze could never deny a child in his house something he knew would help them heal.

Thus, he closed the book in his hands, and took a pensive sigh.

“Well, it depends on your belief, really. What was it the people where you lived before would say?”

Doze tried to avoid the words ‘clown cult’ whenever he could to refer to where Gamzee was before being put in the foster system, because he really didn’t think it would be productive to name it. Gamzee himself didn’t mind, and didn’t even realize it was avoidance half the time. The boy sat up and looked back at his guardian, shaking his head vigorously.

“No, I mean when ‘you’ you die. What’s gonna happen to me?”

“Oh. Well. Let’s hope that isn’t fer a long time then. I don’t think anyone’d like to do me in any time soon.”

“But it’s gonna happen someday. Some day, everyone has to hit the proverbial bucket and send them souls flyin’ to the Dark Carnival and...” Gamzee hesitated, because he saw his guardian’s light frown of disapproval when he talked about his religion. He didn’t really like using their words either, but sometimes it just escaped his mouth; “...and what not. So what happens to a motherfucker like me when that happens to you then?”

“I’ll see that you’re safe, lad. No child ever leaves this roof to sleep at the street, I can tell ya this much.”

Gamzee shook his head again, his springy hair bouncing left to right as he straightened himself sitting in bed and swung his legs to the side, planting his feet firmly on the floor and letting his hands hang between his knees.

“Pops, I meant like... I’m almost eighteen now, I think a bitch can take care of ‘imself past that. But...” He let a voiceless noise die on his throat, while he figured out which words to use. “What’s scary’s that I might go back.”

“Back?”

“To what I was before.”

They stood in silence, as Doze slowly worked through the thought process in his mind. The room was only illuminated by the lamp next to the armchair he sat in and the shine of the moon peeking its way past the curtains and bathing the two meters of floor and the round purple rug between the two of them. The old man brushed the cover of the book in his chubby hands with the side of his thumbs, reflexive, before setting it down on his lap and looking back at Gamzee.

“Well, if y’ feel anxious about it, maybe you’re in the right path.”

“The right path?”

“Yes, well... Maybe this means that, if you ever find yerself in a situation where you can look back and regret what yer doin’... Maybe it’ll give ya strength to change it. Right?”

“I guess so.”

“There’s no need to worry about it now, dear. First comes healing, then comes maintenance. And if you’re really in a tight spot, you have little ol’ Dozey Teddy, haven’t you?” Doze pointed with his chin to Gamzee’s pillow, where a little teddy bear fitted in a felt uniform and a blue top hat stared back at them.

When the mobster had told Gamzee he slept with a little teddy bear, the initial reaction was mockery and laughter. Then, like almost everything he did, he stripped himself of any façade, and asked if he could have one too. He would love to, in his own words, hold onto a motherfucker to catch some well-earned zees. So Doze complied, and asked Stitch to go the extra mile and make the bear look somewhat close to him. He noticed how clingy, almost obsessive the teenager were, after the two of them got a bit more acquainted, and he thought that it would be a nice gesture to make a little trinket he could channel his affection into without hogging all the attention for himself. In a house with a handful more children to be cared of, he unfortunately couldn’t be given that luxury. Gamzee looked towards Dozey Bear, and grabbed him with his long hand full of tendons.

“Yeah.”

The atmosphere grew silent, as the teen fiddled with the stuffed bear’s bowtie, absorbing all his thoughts. Doze deemed this a good time to say his good nights.

“W’d you like me to wet you some tae before tucking you in?”

“Nah pops, I’m good.” Gamzee put one of his hands back on the bed, looking sideways like he was pondering something, his eyes blinking and long eyelashes fluttering right after them. Then, he continued, “wouldja read something for me though? I love hearin’ your voice. It’s like a sleeping spell. No offense.”

Doze chuckled at the last bit, and opened the book back up. “Alright. Just a wee bit.”

Gamzee pulled his legs under him, sitting criss-cross on the bed, and let Doze’s voice take over him. Doze had a thick irish accent, rolled his R’s every opportunity he got, and took his time saying things. It was a monotone, neighborly voice, and Gamzee eventually just closed his eyes and let himself be taken by it until he couldn’t process words anymore, just gentle sounds and purrs, a clarinet playing a melody, and a whistle peppering in its notes here and there. A lullaby made just for himself, with no ulterior motive or message, just the wish to make him happy.

The teenager didn’t notice when he laid down on his pillow, but he did notice his guardian finishing the chapter, closing the book softly and standing up to cover him with his blanket; he let it lay onto Gamzee, brushed the surface once or twice, and then moved his hand to the teenager’s hair, petting it delicately.

“Good night, laddie.”

Gamzee cuddled up with Dozey Bear.

“Night, pops.”

The lamp on the bedside table was turned off, and Doze’s slow and steady steps left the room and closed the door after them with a gentle click, leaving Gamzee to take his well-earned rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love comments, they make me the big :oD  
> My twitter is @rubs_juice! Feel free to scream at me any time!


End file.
